Winter’s Fragile Light
A dedication to Sneedo
Winter’s Fragile Light
A cool breath lifts across the frozen reeds,
their tips still glowing with the ghost of summer.
Shadows stretch long, refusing to let go,
while the river mirrors the sky’s bright pulse—
a fire of salmon and violet awakening the land.
Here, the bare trees keep watch,
sentries of what has ended,
yet at their roots, water moves,
quiet proof that endings never hold forever.
What is living stands beside what has fallen,
equally present, equally seen,
though not all is revealed—
some truths hidden behind the veil of dawn.
Fragile, yes, like the hour itself,
but also enduring—
a reminder that each day
is another page offered,
waiting for us to inscribe
our stories before the light fades.
This painting and poem are dedicated to my friend, Anthony Gene Sneed aka “Sneedo” - we drove the miles, found the moment, were rarely in touch, but friends for 40 years; we could pick up like a day had not passed. Godspeed, my friend, you and yours have been heavy on my mind. You will be missed, but always remembered.
